


Chicago Won

by WPAdmirer



Series: Chicago Stories I [7]
Category: ER, X-Files - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-21
Updated: 2011-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-15 19:56:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WPAdmirer/pseuds/WPAdmirer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, Walter returns to DC, but with the promise of more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chicago Won

**Author's Note:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTES: I got tired of waiting for some good John Carter slash, and there's never enough Skinner fic to suit me.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: It's not the author's intention to infringe upon or profit from the characters created and owned by Chris Carter, 1013 Productions or the Fox Network, nor Warner Brothers and NBC. Skinner and Carter were borrowed temporarily and returned almost immediately.
> 
> SPECIAL THANKS: To KiMeriKal and Crysothemis for beta reading and friendship.

Something stung Walter's hand. He tried to pull the hand toward him, but someone held it. He opened one eye. John Carter held a small flash light in his mouth that illuminated the hand that he held. "Let go." Walter tried to pull away.

"Stop it." John Carter taped the IV needle and the tubing to the back of Walter's hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Hangover cure." Walter watched as John clipped the IV bag on a hotel pants hanger, which he then wedged onto the headboard of the bed.

"What time is it?"

"Late." John pushed Walter down on the bed. "Go back to sleep."

Walter's head felt fuzzy, and he was tired. His arm felt cold as the fluid began to run through the IV into his vein. "Cold."

"It's the IV. Now go back to sleep." John Carter pulled the covers up around Walter.

"Want you," Walter said softly. He wanted John's warmth, against him, beneath the covers. He needed John's warmth. He felt the bed rise as John got up. A moment later he felt his weight on the other side of the bed. The covers were raised and the cool air from the room made him shiver. Then the heat of John's body slid into the bed next to him. He felt John's arm across his chest, and the softness of John's beard and his warm breath against his shoulder and arm.

Walter sighed and let the darkness take him again.  
***

A knock at the door of the room finally penetrated Walter's brain. He sat up in bed just as the maid opened the door to the bedroom. She looked surprised and began to apologize. Walter pulled the covers up, feeling ridiculous and exposed as he sat naked beneath the covers. The maid backed out of the room and Walter leaned against the headboard. His left hand ached. He looked down and saw a band-aid across the back of it. Then he remembered the sting. John Carter. The IV.

He realized other than a vague headache, he really didn't feel bad. John Carter had said something about a hangover cure. Walter rubbed his hand over his scalp and face. He'd had a lot to drink. Too much. Whatever John had done, it had obviously worked.

The room was quiet. The maid had disappeared. Walter threw back the covers and got up. He needed to take a piss, and he needed to do it now. The tile of the bathroom floor felt cold under his bare feet. Once the pressure on his bladder was relieved, he began to feel awake, alert.

He went back into the bedroom, found his glasses and his watch. It was almost two o'clock. There was no sign of John Carter. It was as if everything that had happened during the night was a dream. A robe lay across the foot of the bed. Putting it on, he caught the scent of John in it. It hadn't been a dream. John had been here. He lifted the collar of the robe and pressed his face into it, taking a deep breath. The tang of antiseptic with the slight musk of John's skin filled Walter's head.

He walked into the living room and immediately saw the note lying on the desk. He smiled. Their relationship was quickly being condensed down to a series of small white pieces of paper. He found it strangely comforting. It made what happened more concrete. The note John had left in the wee hours of Friday morning was folded and tucked into his wallet. He'd seen his note in John Carter's hand the night before.

'Walter, forgive me for snooping, but I looked at your ticket. You leave at 12:30. I'll be back here by 8. Give me two more hours. John'

Walter sat down, sinking heavily into the chair. Two more hours. Then he could check out, grab a cab and get to the airport. He'd be there in plenty of time to check in. Then back to D.C. and his apartment and his office and his life. He needed to get cleaned up, eat and then maybe take a long walk and try to think. He also wanted to avoid the temptation of the mini-bar at all costs. He would not lose another minute of the time they had left. Not another minute.  
***

He found himself by the lake, where John had taken him on Thanksgiving day. Walter's bare head was freezing. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and found his hand touching the burgundy toque John had given him before. He took it from his pocket and stood staring at it. It was warm, soft. Images and sensations flowed through his mind and his body. John standing with his coat open by the lake side, smiling, laughing. The feel of his beard against Walter's skin. The feel of his mouth and his impossibly soft lips. The taste of him, mint toothpaste, coffee, and the bitter tang of antiseptic soap. John Carter lying tangled in the sheets. The sound of him as he moved beneath Walter, the out-cry of his orgasm.

"Sir?"

Walter was startled at the male voice. He looked up and found himself looking at a young policeman.

"Sir, you've been standing here for a while. Are you all right?"

Walter looked around and saw the patrol car pulled up next to the curb. Another policeman sat watching them.

"I'm fine," Walter said.

"You sure? You've been standing here for almost thirty minutes, staring at the ground. We thought maybe you were sick or something."

"No, no, I'm fine. Just lost in thought. I'm sorry to have caused you concern."

"Why don't you let us take you to the hospital? Get you checked out, make sure you're okay."

Walter found himself smiling at the idea of being taken into the emergency room. What would John Carter think of that? "No, really, I'm fine." Walter pulled his identification out of his jacket and handed it to the officer. "I didn't realize I'd been standing here so long. I've just had some things on my mind."

The man looked at the identification. "FBI. Well, sir." He handed Walter the leather bifold.

Walter put the identification back into his pocket.

"Do you need anything, sir?"

Walter looked out at the lake and the sailboats bobbing against the horizon. "Not anything you can help with, Officer. Thank you."

The policeman headed back toward his patrol car and Walter pulled the toque on, covering even his ears. It was a long walk back to the hotel. The cold air burned his chest as he took a deep breath and headed back the way he'd come.  
***

He had dinner in the room. He'd showered again. The room had been cleaned, the sheets on the bed changed. His suitcase was packed and his jacket, coat and briefcase sat out. He would leave at the last possible moment. He would stretch this last night out for as long as he could.

There was a soft knock at the door and he answered it, his heart hammering in his chest. John stood in the hall, his hair still damp. Walter reached out and pulled him into the room, closing the door with a kick as he covered John Carter's mouth with his own. The taste of toothpaste and cinnamon gum, the feel of John's beard in his hands as he held his face, the smell of iodine that always clung to John's hands, it all filled his senses, brought tears to his eyes.

John Carter's tongue sought his, and his hands drew Walter's body closer to him. He had no idea how long the kiss lasted, but when he finally broke away, Walter could feel the heat of arousal flushing his face and chest, his penis becoming hard.

"There's food," he said.

"Fuck food." John Carter dropped his backpack onto the floor. His eyes were bright.

Walter smiled and began unbuttoning his shirt. John focused entirely on watching him as he undressed. By the time he pulled his briefs off, his erection was full. John licked his lips, then reached out, taking Walter's penis in his hand. He stroked it, squeezing gently. Walter bit back a groan.

"What do you want, Walter?"

Walter reached out and touched John's face, stroking the side of his face, feeling his beard soft beneath his fingers.

"Answer me."

Walter looked into his dark eyes, feeling John's stare boring into his brain. The grip on his penis grew tighter.

"Answer me."

"You."

The word hung in the air between them, almost visible, real.

"Then take me."

Such simple words, spoken plainly. Walter reached out and drew John to his chest, holding him tightly. He pulled the tail of John's shirt out of his pants, drawing it up over his head, ignoring the buttons, too desperate to feel his body to bother with them. He threw the shirt aside and unbuttoned John's pants, drawing the zipper down. Walter let go of the pants and they dropped to the floor. John stepped out of them. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of John's boxers. "Off."

John kept his grip on Walter's penis, using one hand to push his boxers off his hips, letting them drop to the floor along with his pants. He stepped closer to Walter and their mouths met, the kiss deep, frightening in its need.

John broke the kiss, let go of Walter and walked away. At the door to the bedroom he stopped and looked at him. Walter felt his heart constrict. How could he give this up? John disappeared into the room. A moment later Walter heard the sound of the bed creaking beneath John Carter's weight. He took a step toward the bedroom door and could go no further.

Several minutes passed and he heard the bed again. John appeared in the doorway.

"What's wrong, Walter?"

Walter could not find his voice.

"Talk to me." John came to him, took his face in his hands, looked him in the eyes.

Walter shook his head. "I…can't…"

"Can't what? Talk to me? Make love to me? What can't you do, Walter?" Walter closed his eyes.

"What can't you do?"

Walter reached out and put his hand on the back of John's neck. He felt the warmth of his skin, the silkiness of his hair.

"What can't you do?"

"Give you up." It was a whisper. He felt John's forehead come against his own, John's nose touched his. He folded his arms around John.

"Then don't."

Walter shook his head. John's mouth touched his again, tongue forcing his lips and teeth apart and sweeping inside to steal his breath, and along with his breath his will, perhaps even his soul.

Walter broke away, "John Carter…"

"Don't, Walter. Please."

Walter kissed him again. A strange sense of peace filled him. It was not the least bit logical. It was completely insane. He should have himself committed right now, right here, just take himself out to that hospital where Mulder had been held. Turn himself in. Let them strap him to a bed and give the number of Cancerman to the staff and lie back and wait to die. He'd just signed his death warrant. His only hope was that he had not signed John Carter's.

"I want to make love to you, then eat, then we'll talk."

John laughed. "In that exact order."

"More or less."

Walter felt John's erection pressing against his hip. "We'd better get started. We don't have much time."

Despite their arousal the sex was sweet and slow. Walter had made his decision, as irrational as it was. He allowed himself the luxury of touching John Carter's body in all the ways he wanted. When they finally reached orgasm, almost simultaneously, Walter was pleasantly exhausted. He would have liked nothing better than to fall into a deep sleep, John's body tucked against his, but it was not possible.

John rose and went to the bathroom, returning with a washcloth and a towel. He cleaned the semen from both their chests and stomachs, then they dressed in silence.

The food was cold, but still edible. Walter had no desire to fill his mouth with any taste but that of John Carter. He almost resented the flavors that coated his tongue, that covered the flavors he'd gathered during their love making.

"I don't have much money," John said. "I don't get much time off."

Walter nodded. "I'll take care of the costs. Time will be harder."

John reached across the table and took Walter's hand. "I could take you to the airport."

Walter shook his head. "No. I can't say goodbye to you there. I'd rather say goodbye here. Shaking your hand wouldn't do it."

"How do I reach you?"

Walter took out a business card, wrote two numbers on the back and handed it to him. "Office on the front. Home and cellular on the back. Be careful what you say. I'm sure my office phone is tapped, and wouldn't be surprised if the home is, too."

"And cellular phones are not secure."

Walter smiled. "If you leave your name and number I'll call you back as soon as I can."

They ate and talked. The time passed too quickly and Walter realized that he had to leave. He put on his jacket, his coat. He kissed John, holding him close, tangling his fingers in his soft hair. He rubbed his face against John's beard. "Stay here tonight. I want to think of you in this bed."

John nodded.

"I'll call you." Walter picked up his briefcase and suit bag and quickly walked out the door. He didn't wait for the elevator. He had to get out fast. He couldn't allow himself a moment or he would turn around and refuse to leave.

The taxi driver was talkative. Check-in at the airport brief and painless. There were very few people waiting for the flight. It was almost time to board when his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of the pocket of his coat.

"Skinner."

"Can you still smell me on you?"

He was almost immediately hard. "John Carter."

"I can smell you in the bed."

"This isn't safe…"

"There's no safer sex than phone sex."

"What about cyber sex?"

John Carter laughed and Walter felt himself smile.

"It's not quite as safe, but I think we'll have to try it. I miss you already."

Walter closed his eyes and saw John Carter lying in the bed, the light from the lamp falling across his pale skin. His slender penis thickening with erection. "Oh, this is bad…" Walter whispered.

The boarding call came for his plane.

"That's you," John said.

"I can't get up right now." Walter blushed as peals of laughter came through the phone.

"Call me, Walter Skinner."

"I will."

The phone went dead. Walter put the phone back into his coat pocket. He thought about his desk, the paperwork that would be piled on it. He thought about Cancerman, the weasel Spender. His erection faded quickly. He got up, picking up his things and headed for the gate.

He would have to be sure to get a blanket. Maybe two of them. It was a short flight, but there would be that window of time when he could use the phone on the plane. And he had the number of the hotel on the receipt in his jacket pocket. Neither of them would get any rest tonight. Walter laughed to himself as he boarded the plane.


End file.
